I’ve spent the past five years dishing out relationship advice, but I never took any of it seriously. It was more a comedic outlet for my writing, a way for me to poke fun at how crazy and stressful dating could be. No one would think I’d actually advocate starting a collection of your date’s toenail trimmings and present it to them on your first anniversary. At least I hope they wouldn’t.
“Yes, Guinevere. No matter what I say or do, I fear I’ll never be able to convince you this idea is anything but juvenile. And maybe it is. I simply saw it as a way to solve both our problems. I was already on the lookout for someone who might be interested in posing as my girlfriend. When I heard you share your troubles that night at the bar, I thought you’d be perfect. And I still think you’d be perfect for what I need.”
I worry my bottom lip, absorbing his words. “Why me?”
“Why not you?”
“I can list a thousand reasons. I’m sure there are plenty of women who would gladly agree to pretend to be your girlfriend. Hell, you might even get laid, which one would argue would be a nice bonus. You won’t get that with me.”
He leans closer, gazing thoughtfully at me with his penetrating blue eyes. It almost feels like he’s able to peer into my soul.
“Did you ever stop to think that’s exactly why I asked you?”
“Because I won’t sleep with you?” I push out a laugh, then sip my wine. “Most men would probably expect sex from this kind of arrangement. Unless, of course, they were gay…” My breath hitches, wide eyes darting to Julian. “Oh, my god!” I whisper-shout, glancing around the restaurant, ensuring no one’s paying attention. Apart from Trevor’s occasional wandering gaze, no one seems to care about our conversation. “You’re gay, aren’t you? You need me to pretend to date you to keep your sexual orientation a secret so some conservative politician will back whatever project you’re working on. That’s why you didn’t take advantage of me when I was drunk and in your bed.”
He chuckles, his expression brightening with amusement. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but I’ve yet to be accused of being gay.”
“It’s okay if you are. There’s nothing wrong with it. No one cares these days, especially in New York. Are you from a religious family? Is that why—”
“I am not gay. That’s not why I’m looking for someone to pose as my girlfriend. And that’s not why I didn’t take advantage of you. I didn’t take advantage of you because I’m not an asshole. I don’t take advantage of women. Period.” His voice is determined, his eyes steadfast.
At that moment, the waiter approaches with our meals, cutting through the tension. The aroma of garlic and meat invades my senses as my mouth waters from the beautifully prepared steak in front of me. I pick up my knife and slice into it, meeting Julian’s eyes as he cuts into his lamb, the meat falling off the bone.
“Bon appetite,” he says in a perfect French accent, which piques my curiosity, but not enough to press him about it. Not with my steak inches from my mouth.
I take a bite, moaning at the buttery flavor of the impeccably prepared filet.
“You really know how to tease a man, don’t you?”
“Why? Am I teasing you?” I bat my lashes, thankful for the flirtatious atmosphere between us once more.
“You have no fucking idea.”
The tone of his voice hits me deep in my core. As much as I want to tear my eyes from his, I’m unable to, the tension cracking and sizzling. Why don’t I remember it being like this with Trevor?
“So…” I clear my throat, my brain finally communicating with the rest of my body to look away from Julian before I throw myself at him without a single regard for the fact we’re in public. “Getting back to why we’re here.”
“Yes?”
“Why me? Especially considering you know I’m not exactly over my ex.”
“That’s one of the reasons,” Julian answers nonchalantly. “Less drama. Less headache. I get the pleasure of the company of a woman who’s familiar with what it takes to be in a committed relationship and will be able to sell the idea that we’re in one. And I won’t have to worry about you wanting more than I’m willing to give.”
“This begs the question of why you need to pretend to be in a committed relationship. Why aren’t you in one? You’re not one of those guys who thinks it’s his civic duty to screw as many women as possible, yet refuses to commit to anyone, are you?”
“Certainly not,” he answers with a chuckle. “I’m just not interested in a relationship.”
“At all?” I arch a brow. It reminds me of Chloe’s take on relationships. Maybe I should suggest they get together since it seems he has more in common with her. “Life is full of relationships,” I continue, pushing down the jealousy bubbling at the idea of Chloe and Julian hooking up, “even if they’re not the intimate type. You appear to be rather successful in whatever it is you do. You don’t get there unless you build business relationships.”
“That’s different. We leave all emotions out of things to get the job done. It’s not personal.”
“So you’re just not interested in a relationship that requires you to get too personal.”
His expression pensive, he considers my statement for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I suppose that’s correct.” He brings his fork to his mouth, taking another bite of his lamb.
“May I ask why?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
I sigh, lifting my glass. “Then I suppose you’ll have to find someone else to be your fake girlfriend.”
His gaze turns steely, his jaw tightening. I’ve hit a nerve. “Suffice it to say, I don’t buy into the requirement that in order to be happy, you have to be in a relationship with someone. Some people aren’t cut out for that.”
“And you think you’re one of them?” My voice is timid as I press on. The more I do, the greater the chance he’ll walk away.
“I know I am. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
Silence falls between us, awkward and stiff. It’s the most distant I’ve felt around him since we met. In an attempt to ignore it, I push my food around my plate, my appetite disappearing.
“As far as the other reason…”
When I hear him speak again, I lift my eyes to meet his. “Pardon?”
“I said one of the reasons you’re perfect for this is that I don’t have to worry about you falling for me. But there’s more.”
“And what’s that?” My heart drums in my chest, his tone a stark contrast to the anger with which he spoke mere seconds earlier. I marvel at his ability to flip the switch so quickly.
With extreme grace, he swirls his wine before bringing it to his mouth. My eyes instantly focus on his lips. I’m mesmerized by everything this man does. I should find comfort in the fact nothing will ever happen between us. Hell, these were my conditions, after all. Regardless, a twinge of disappointment settles in my heart at never knowing him on a more intimate level.
“There was something in your voice as you informed the entire bar of your breakup. I can’t quite explain it. After twelve years, you’d think there would be anger, sadness, disappointment. But there was something else instead.”
“Sarcasm?” I offer, recalling the bitterness that prompted me to share my heartache with complete strangers. I’m sure the alcohol didn’t hurt in that regard, either. No need to give me a truth serum. Give me a shot of tequila and I’d tell you the location of Jimmy Hoffa…if I knew it.
“That’s not it.” He shakes his head. “I heard hope.”
“Hope?”
“Yes. And determination. Your ability to find humor about what could only be described as one of the most heartbreaking events of your life shows your strength of character. You didn’t go home, watch When Harry Met Sally, and gorge on Ben & Jerry’s.”
I scoff, “Not by choice.”
He studies me for a moment before speaking again. “I think it was. I may not know you as well as Chloe or Nora, but I’ve picked up on a few things. One of those is you only do what you want. If you didn’t want to spend time with me, you wouldn’t be here.”